NCAA is tougher than God when it comes to sex abuse

I don’t wish to appear flippant, but I can’t help comparing the Vatican’s handling of its long-running abuse scandal with the tough punishment meted out this week on Penn State University for similarly failing to respond to evidence of sex crimes.

This is prompted by the latest chapter in the seemingly endless tale of abuse problems within the Roman Catholic Church. In this instalment Monsignor William Lynn was sentenced on Tuesday to three-to-six years in prison for covering up child sex abuse by priests in Philadelphia.

Monsignor Lynn had been appointed to investigate abuse allegations among 800 priests. Instead, according to the judge, he aided and abetted it, covering up abuse and hiding predatory priests by transferring them to unsuspecting parishes.

“You knew full well what was right, Monsignor Lynn, but you chose wrong,” said Judge M. Teresa Sarmina, adding that he had protected “monsters in clerical garb who molested children.” He was convicted on a single count of child endangerment.

At about the same time Monsignor Lynn was being sentenced, Penn State was digesting the harsh measures imposed on it by the National Collegiate Athletic association (NCAA) over its failure to act against abuse allegations on its football team. The penalties include a $60 million fine, exclusion from postseason play for four years, and a reduction in the number of football scholarships it can award. It also erased 111 football victories credited to former coach Joe Paterno over 14 years, eliminating his legacy as the winningest coach in college football. On Sunday, a statue of coach Paterno was removed from its spot outside the college stadium.

“I now believe that, contrary to its original intention, coach Paterno’s statue has become a source of division and an obstacle to healing in our university and beyond,” Penn State President Rodney Erickson said in a statement. “I believe that, were it to remain, the statue will be a recurring wound to the multitude of individuals across the nation and beyond who have been the victims of child abuse.”

Football isn’t religion, although U.S. fans often treat it that way, and Paterno was often accorded god-like status. He wasn’t accused of any abuse — it was his assistant, Jerry Sandusky, who molested boys in the shower – but he helped ensure nothing was done about it. Paterno had awesome power at the university. Its leaders quaked before him. Even as the abuse investigators closed in, he successfully pressed for a rich new contract, including $3 million if he agreed to retire, and access to the university’s private plane (how many Canadian universities have private planes?) and a luxury box at Beaver Stadium. Even after Paterno’s death, campus authorities have shown a distinct reluctance to challenge his family as it wages an aggressive campaign to protect his legacy.

But in college football, unlike in Rome, there is a higher earthly authority. To its credit the NCAA displayed none of Penn State’s fear of offending Paterno’s relatives or supporters. It could take years for the university to regain its honour, its status, and its ability to attract and recruit young athletes. So while it took a decade for the university’s dirty secret to see daylight, it has been swiftly and effectively dealt with.

You can’t say that about the Vatican. It’s still trying to explain itself, long after the extent and impact of its abusive priests became known. “I have been a priest for 36 years, and I have done the best I can. I have always tried to help people,” said Monsignor Lynn at his sentencing. Too bad the Pope answers only to God, and God evidently isn’t as tough-minded as the NCAA.